As soon as Ethan answered the phone, a barrage of cursing exploded from the other end.
"You little f**ker, you got a death wish? Who told you to drag my name into that group chat?"
"You really think you can mess with me? You must be tired of living."
"I've got a hundred ways to make you disappear from this city. You believe me?"
It was Mason Carter—an infamous neighborhood thug with a violent record and a small army of goons under him.Word on the street said he had blood on his hands. People in the complex always kept their heads down around him.
And this guy?
He had led the raid on Ethan's apartment in the last life.
Ethan remembered it well.
He sneered.
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Some washed-up gang rat still acting tough? Bark again and I'll put you down like a dog."
He spat the words with venom, and damn, it felt good.
This was the same psycho who helped tear him apart in his past life. Ethan had been holding back the fire for too long.
Now? He was done holding back.
Mason didn't expect Ethan to talk back. The surprise made him even angrier.
"You're dead! You hear me? You're—"
Click.
Ethan hung up mid-rant.
Then? Blocked.
Simple. Clean. Petty. Perfect.
He could almost picture Mason throwing a tantrum on the other side of the line.And that alone made Ethan smile.
He walked over to the security monitor on the wall.
Thanks to DragonShield Security, his entire apartment floor was wired up with military-grade surveillance.He had eyes on the whole building.
He clicked over to the 6th floor feed—Mason's place.
Seconds later, Mason burst out of his apartment, baseball bat in hand.
Despite trying to look badass, the second he stepped outside—he froze.
Literally.
Even wrapped in a puffer jacket, the −100°F air hit him like a slap to the face.Worse, his coat was unzipped—he wanted everyone to see his gang tattoos.
What an idiot.
He rubbed his hands together and hustled into the elevator.
Ethan chuckled, then reached under the coffee table and pulled out a hunting-grade mini crossbow.
This thing could down a wild boar.
And Ethan had practiced.Within 15 meters, his shots were damn near surgical.
He loaded the bolt while humming casually.
When the elevator dinged, Ethan was already by the reinforced steel door.There was a shooting slit—two meters up—built into the frame.
He climbed onto a chair, popped it open from inside, and aimed.
He could see Mason stomping down the hall, shouting.
"ETHAN! Open the f**king door, you little sh*t!"
"You were all tough online—let's see you act brave now!"
Mason slammed the bat against the door again and again.
The door didn't budge.Two inches of armor-plated steel wasn't something a bat could dent.
And Mason? He didn't even realize he was being watched.
Ethan aimed for his head, then paused.
Killing Mason now? Too quick.Too easy.
This was a guy who helped dismember Ethan in his past life.
No.He didn't deserve a clean death.
He deserved to suffer.
Ethan shifted aim—and fired.
THWIP!
The bolt tore through Mason's calf like paper.
The scream that followed?
Music.
Mason hit the ground, screaming, clutching his shredded leg.In sub-zero temperatures, he'd be lucky if the leg wasn't amputated within the hour.
And with no meds?
Infection was a death sentence.
The pain broke Mason.
His tough guy persona melted.
He crawled toward the elevator, dragging his bleeding leg, slipping in his own freezing blood.
He didn't even know what hit him.
But deep down, he understood one thing—
He messed with the wrong f**king guy.
Ethan watched it all through the monitor, calm as ever.
"That's enough for now. Let him stew."
He didn't kill him—yet.
Why?
Because monsters like Mason deserved a slow death.
One that matched what they'd done to others.